"erects" poems
My Frankenstein monster
erects in the dense night
a soliloquies of remedies
traced on pasted wall paper
It bids faster as the kites fly
high above the Himalayan
feeding respect to the sun
to radiate its vector rays
It whispers of this world
a spice of colours and patterns
a windy dainty silky road
wrapped with satanic ribbons
As the masses gather on the poles
to dance the mayday festival
the pagan gods shake the monster
their gold merry as the cloud chills
The bonfire embers and trembles
the palates vanish in the ashy wind
the crowds grow in bonded unity
the monster smiles in rhymed terms
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or
sidewalk chalk.
mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt.
of god & country.
of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied.
he skates.
the concussed ****** of booming youth.
omega he:
to the wolf pack outers.
breathing love of summer, he
is the son drunk on hi-c
& burping.
watching teenaged supersoakers yodel
on a bridge.
florida.
son sneaks out late to rationalize
the city’s features
under strange light & love of nightly people.
boy sculpts body out of beast,
turned dark corners.
arrives swollen.
his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab
with flood light electronics taught to worship
the shred.
mother rattles the blender
on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed
& nearing with hugs.
blister-itched.
glossed folds of scar tissue.
those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates.
with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations
from outerspace & pigeons explode.
son’s ears bleed, &
the television goes unwatched.
he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing
his legs into iron-rods
or wands of summer anthem.
cold war.
he empties sugar-sweat & toxins
into the storm-drain.
essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend
of ghosts.
a three legged dog lay in the shade
leisurely watching the boy skate
on endless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
710
The Sunrise runs for Both—
The East—Her Purple Troth
Keeps with the Hill—
The Noon unwinds Her Blue
Till One Breadth cover Two—
Remotest—still—
Nor does the Night forget
A Lamp for Each—to set—
Wicks wide away—
The North—Her blazing Sign
Erects in Iodine—
Till Both—can see—
The Midnight’s Dusky Arms
Clasp Hemispheres, and Homes
And so
Upon Her Bosom—One—
And One upon Her Hem—
Both lie—
3.4k
My feet are so cold to lay on yours
Your hands busy chasing my curves
Paddled in cuddles, pebbles carved
Doodles dwindles all over my body
Tinkering hands as they reach a ******
Ripples twisting blossoming bosoms
Rage the sleeping animated power
Break your wings as the rod erects
Alas! The touch disappears in thin air
Feet warmed in the damning chamber
The perpendicular collapses in angle
Sailed to dally in uncensored snores
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
Winter's edge flurries -
snowflakes converge,
a carpet of fox scavenged litter
re-emerging like
iced puddles of hubris.
Whilst The Christmas message is relayed
Rebecca erects a humming line
to keep away the crows and parquets
from her prized cabbage and kale.
but the threadbare sound is
reminiscent of cymbals,
carrying thoughts of a lost carnival.
She journeyed to the coast
and caught an amateur performance of the
"Seven Deadly Sins", in and out of situ.
The deserted beach, ghostly
yet littered with wicker creels
the fisherman their whispers silenced,
better console with tomorrow's wise
in hope of an epiphany.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
There is dark magic
Here in my attic
A magician’s tactics
Cause pain emphatic
This magician gives me all I can handle
Until one day I’m dismantled
Like a once lit candle
Extinguished by the ice near Ymir
Birthing the Titans I fear
Bringing death here
Morphing me into a rigid wreck
Here in the frigid depths
I wish I left
The violence of violins
Lamenting the vile sin
Conjured by riled kin
Like they’re wild djinn
Can’t be muted
Only diluted
By becoming rooted
In thinking stupid
Avoiding Cupid
To join the putrid
The magician concocts potions
That excuse my emotions
As I forget devotion
For a temporary motion
The magician gives us difficult obstacles
And easily medicated excuses
So people won’t make things optimal
While purpose eludes them
Like Jekyll and Hyde
My hackles I hide
With shackles of pride
Covered in mystic thorns
So my wrists are torn
From the pain adorned
It’s my brain I mourn
The magician erects walls so thick
They separate healers from the sick
With magic bricks
Imbued by the magician’s enchantment
He builds a wall and then expands it
Until those inside become tantric
From the prison wall’s antics
Every time I turn the page
I am given rage
On the magician’s stage
Of the wars we wage
Under a curse of anger
Dehumanizing strangers
To deploy the Army Rangers
Perpetuating harming danger
The magician lies
The magician steals
The magician hides
What is real
Until I feel
The cold steel
The magician wields
Piercing through my electrified body
I guess the magician finally caught me
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
My poem warms my nights like a silver moon,
like fireflies on the trees; fantasy is what I longed,
constructed feelings, somehow are unexplained,
like bubbles of morning air, touch my skins.
It's not how I intertwine my heart all of the sudden,
but how our language diverged; beautifully spoken,
and when my mind erects, so slow, for real
that's when I ********* words suitable for her.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
Your clothes can’t cover my memory
doe eyed girl full of intrigue
despite her,
she became a woman
breast that lay with you
such a fluid form
for a body so firm
like god couldn’t decide with you
I however have made up my mind
I am not your creator
but I can destroy you
even the wrecking ball eventually erects new structures
The French call it “Little Death”
I’ve named it after a pair of monuments to a moment,
glimpsed through thighs up to you
hungry
tongue lashing out
words cropped from two bodies
in solidarity
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
This private mind
Too delicate for its own good
Every time a mirror's smashed
Someone erects another one
The only signs I believe
Rewinding when they couldn't see
Apocalyptic revelry
Calendar of X's
Six senses infiltrated
Still I try to see the kid in me
Make up a world of crashing down
And never ever burning
Make it in your mind enough
It will come to life enough
Existing before you came
Still there when the curtains close
But you have to keep at it
Can't let it be smashed or tagged
Keep the turkey in the bag
Cause someone's got a hammer
Maybe soon the dawn will comfort
Price to pay for fearing dusk
But if you look hard enough
A star can answer all your prayers
Dead dogs attract the best of us
The vile and the tempest-tossed
A soul flew off, a line was crossed
A nothing lay outlined in chalk
Sweaty products jutting from scissors
Sculpted by the only source
Which one are you
Which one are you
This apple tastes like a bible page
Drooping bells and cracked flowers
Show me how to disengage
Show me how to disengage
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
- Stay away plagiarizers - (ß?)
and who the **** would want
to plagiarise you?! i'm guessing nobody,
let's become serf-like ignoble,
let's keep this capitalism afloat....
oh, got the feelings awry?
can't mix the Koran
with capitalism... someone's
bound to suffer with, or without
the Royce Rolls...
you better be awake
when testifying for Moroccans
as equivalent of Napoleon
taking a **** on the throne of thrones
and tongue waggle and **** to boot...
as the Led Zeppelin immigrant song,
i just keep conjuring Genghis Khan...
and we're done when the horde erects
a cranium pyramid of skulls at Baghdad....
we didn't come to these islands as *******
we came here as Williams...
the Muslims could teach donkeys a half trot
to what we were establishing,
and it wasn't pretty, we were disgruntled with
expectancy lost along the way...
the Muslims could teach them post-colonialism,
so they agreed, crafting a new India
and prayers for the Hijab preserved...
they teach me one more ************* time
i'll start preaching with agile pursuit, duping
their endeavours for an Ian Fleming novel and why
spies have no regard for a C.V.,
never mind the hope for a person who might provide
me a suicide vest:oh sure i'm tickling
the authorities... i want them to spy on me...
i want them to become paparazzi:
when the two parties mingle we get comparative swoons:
Lucifer and Icarus.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
She paints walls
with anguish
blended
from murky emotions between them,
coats the ceiling with shades of his past mistake.
Befuddled,
his clinical genius
finds no path for them to take.
She flaunts neglect
for all to see
so he allows no one to enter.
She erects
invisible mountains
for him to climb
with uncharted trailheads beckoning.
He trudges daily
through fallen ruins of past quarrels,
wandering unmapped terrain
in search of their secret stream
of lost love.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 6:32 PM UTC
Her faith it heals, her mind protects
In fear of love her heart erects
A wall of stone to keep away
The visitor her heart expects
Her virtue will not let her stray
To thoughts of him or let replay
The memories edging at her heart
By night she'll kneel down to pray
"Oh please Oh God set me apart
Give me strength, a brand new start"
Her logic, though, is deeply flawed
As love is strong but not too smart
Each day she's building her facade
And always keeping him abroad
By night beside her bed she'll laud
Love's absence in the name of God
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
Yes No Yes No Yes No
Dribble!
No missed passes there.
Yes? Yes. No? (equally, emphatically) Yes!
Cancellation then? Annihilation then?
Sometimes, may be,
all the time, may be,
but, there, subterranean,
somewhere lingering,
sub-zero, a fuzzy something
that we can't make sense of.
invisible, the scaffolding that
erects the edifice of our life.
Yes Yes Yes. Goal!
.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
Her appearance draws unwanted attention,
She’s judged by the veil on her head.
She sees their curious glances and reactions
But looks the other way instead.
She lowers her face, avoiding any eyes,
She’s used to this and expects it.
Some would consider curious conversation
But her evading eyes deflect it.
She wonders what it would be like to be
With family in a public place,
To not be different from the crowd, to see
Acceptance in a stranger’s face.
But deep beliefs resist any stray musings,
She’s been veiled most of her life.
Still she yearns for someone to view her as just
A woman, a mother, or wife.
Her veil and clandestine dress erects a wall,
Hides her heart, causes distrust, fear.
Not many are willing to risk her offense
Or bring possible menace near.
Do I look behind the veil to see the heart
Of a woman needing to come
To see God as a Father who loves this lost
And adrift daughter of Islam
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Some part of me wants you back,
Another part of me wants you to stay away.
Some part of me gets jealous,
Another part of me just doesn't want to care.
Some part of me breaks,
Another part of me erects a wall.
Some part of me cries,
Another part of me is resisting.
Some part of me is real,
Another part of me is fake.
Some part of me wants to admit,
Another part of me is stoping me.
Some part of me still loves you,
Another part of me harbours hatred.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
Solely is that leaf which fell from their tree.
It shook to try and get back up, but he can't.
He misses the other leaves, the ones who didn't fall.
The wind is dragging him further away from four.
This world is unfamiliar to him, this sun is much brighter.
The wind deepened him, high stop a mountain.
It's getting colder for that leaf, dryer, more fragile.
He is starting to crumble, his nectar is being taken.
But a new fluid fills him, and he erects to a new tree.
He wants to recount with his old leafs, but he can't.
He'll never awake now, his other leafs will never know.
Solely is that lead which fell from their tree.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
Doubled over with glee
Extinguishing the flaming escorts
Then taking off to Alphabet city
To meet the escape artist
He's nutty
And has asked me to accompany him to his thirty four acre plot of land
Somewhere out in East **********
He wants to film a blockbuster
It's top secret, only we know
There will be a scene where the protagonist yodels for his father
And erects a windmill with his honest hands
I found this pony-tailed guy in the classifieds
He was looking for an accordion player and I replied
He called me The Flavor of the Week
He had boxes and boxes of wigs and toupees
And every time he put new one on, he was a different person
He would go upstairs and leave me in the den
I'd hear thuds, thumps and screaming
Some kind of emotional turbulence
He said he bit the bullet when Houdini made it big
But when Houdini bit the dust, he went rapping at the door of his estate and gnawed at the door handle
And would not stop ringing the bell
Laughing and laughing
It was his chance to get the rebound
And get down to the nitty gritty
But I couldn't bring myself to tell him this was going to be a box-office bomb
He tried incessantly to revive his dreams
He went mad and ran a square mile
He still writes me, and tells me I never call
The phone works both ways buddy
And I do not see you coming in today's forecast
So I'll come to you, you *******
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Stick a gun to my head
Cover me in gas
Bind my hands
And strike the match
We can share the last laugh
Together
Nothings better
Than nothing to lose
Inscribe it across my tomb
I'm too numb to care
Too dumb to stare into your eyes
Your enemy is mine
And I'm just fine
With dining alone
Just fine with not shining at all
I build the bridge to burn it down
Down so far it erects again
Watch me swim as slow as i can
Inhale the water and rise to land
I'm not the man I think I am
Not the man you think I am
I am merely a middle man
A fish on land
Throw back what you catch
If you can
Soaking wet
With burning hands
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
The statue I built
In the Memorial Gardens
In mid June
By September had turned green
It wasn't supposed to be of copper
But of gold.
I never asked for it to be a fountain
But it was.
The water came out of the eyes
You can see the place where it ran down
Now the park is bankrupt and the water is shut off
His arm has a cigarette burn
and his open hand holds a crumpled candy wrapper
His green liver spotted hand.
There is a ***** word carved into his pedestal
The pigeons indulgently **** on him
By February, thieves will have taken him.
From the gardens and park that lay in disrepair
Man erects plans and monuments
God Laughs
Man builds a statue of himself
God's pigeons **** on it.
His thieves take it
And His good Earth swallows the memory.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
starry eyed dreamers once caged
by the limits of their lives
push past the fences the world erects
and with their devotions to the freedom
of the heart they paint with lenses the
worlds kittens and cream hidden
in the burnt out shells of cars in a field
and the lost can always be found
by the banks of the rivers dream
with tents shielding from the overripe summer sun
and transistor radios churning out
a tin mans version of stairway to heaven
while the poor girls knit socks the rough boys wrestle
and there's catfish on the fire
for the all night feast
grown accustom to the light hand
and comfortable bed
easy to forgery a smile when the soul is corrupt
she says long as you don't linger where you cash it in
the living is easy long as its another's life
she winks easy as her hand slides like jelly down towards my pocket
but iv done the road and asphalt make bad bedfellows
so i push off serenity and her neon mile dream
push onwards to a place in a sun
river faces and clockwork planes overhead
by the setting sun
and cool sea
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
It took a ten point turn with a trailer to get here
But after ringing roses around each other
Around and around the bends of the bush
The reasons why were made so clearly
When we were to make new home
Our shaded shelter to save us scorching
And within walking reach of tide
And so we commence a life sublime
Home upon wheels erects so shortly
And the best help I can give
Is to sit here and enjoy myself
Tough life felt as freedom repeats in my ears
My bush family treating them to their sublime sounds
Though denying my withdrawal we do Ron Ronnie
And so I punish my lungs
But please myself
With beverage we watch the waves curling
And the sun sinking
Reclined on a hot stone seat
Simply living out life's treats
Then suddenly Sara felt the southernly
And so wine tasting moved back home
Where divine racks so generously shared
And we talk allsorts until the stars are shown
Next day spent content in my own aura
Deciding where best to be idol
As there's no effort in anything here
Later hearts are opened upon the rocks
Whilst we fathom full year risen
But with no known destination
A wondering quarry of confusion
But not now to disturb us greatly
For now we are too content to much care
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
*my Heart that
still loves you*
**my mind that
thinks of you**
*my arms that
yearn to hold you*
**my lips that
miss your kisses**
*my feet that
have refused to move on*
**my eyes which
see no other person**
*my experience that
thinks I should pick a lesson*
**my phone which
ceased to vibrate**
*my **** that
constantly erects like sick*
**at dreams
that make me weak**
**** everything that
makes me feel so empty*
**every passing year
and tear shed cause you ain't here**
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Pop culture infects me
it erects me
wrecks me..?
Pop culture is a pivot table.
Trivia pop trivia..
Music pop music..
Pop culture is a pivot point.
A flexible memory joint.
The timeline expanding...
and divided by 10.
defining decades...
This, to me, is weird to comprehend.
Inconsequential
yet drilled in like an adrenaline marker in your thought
*A fetish object spot.
Brings comfort to the masses
and my desire for language classes
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
Here It Is, Here's My Confession,
Thought I'd Submit & Lose To Depression.
Better To Be Plant Food,
Than Living Life Half Full,
From Here Grows My Attitude,
Heaven & Hell & The Pull.
Wires Tight But There's No Melody,
Fires Bright But Only In Memory,
If I'm Gone Don't Remember Me,
Weakness Is Real It Dismembered Me.
I Make Myself Whole From The Shards I Collect,
Remembering Beauty The Spirit Directs,
Tearing Down Structures Depression Erects,
Gathering All That I Recollect.
I Remember The Victim,
How They All Tricked Him,
Treated Like **** Not A Bit Of Respect,
So I Look Closer I Try To Inspect.
Not At The Past & All That Has Passed,
But At The Present & What It Presents,
At My Behaviour & Change The Dissent,
At All The Fibres Soaked In My Essence.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC